LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
Tti U231 

~®m*Wfy.-~. 

SheU'. t .C.5..38 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



s 



BY THE, SEXTON: 

rf»u 5 \A«k Lutitka "TOIL CONFLICT 
BETWEEN TMJt MAN IK THE WAlb ^ ) 
PEW AND THE N®KTO-WINP®W 
to WITNC35ILD BY TflE £®H<= 
<QVEIf?®R ®F TOE ®WE AN® 
TO£,(AT LAST) C e NTf @ LL£R m T 
THE ®TOEC?" 

ASSISTED BY 

GEO. A. STOCKWELL. 

WILLIAM J. DANIELSON: 

PROVIDENCE. 




JUN 3 J 



A^^ 
^O 6 



Entered according- to the Act of Congress in the year iSoo» 

by 

George A. Stockwell, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington. 



All Rights Reserved. 



Illustrated by Printed by 

Louis D. Norton. Snow & Farnham. 



CONTENTS. 



I. THE OVERTURE. 

ii. major(ity) and minority) airs. 

III. THE PITCH. 

IV. THE CHOIR. 

V. AN INTERLUDE. 

VI. SOLOS. 

VII. SOLO FUGUES. 

VIII. A MEDLEY. 

IX. EPITHALAMIUM. 

X. POSTLUDE. 

XI. AN ECHO. 



TO 

YOUR CHOIR, 

The Most Harmonious and Melodious,, 

THIS BOOK 
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY THE 

AUTHOR. 



)nT 



tho 



IT, 




THE OYERTURS. 



HE desire for musical en- 
lightenment and enter- 
tainment found expres- 
sion at first in timorous, 
plaintive, diminuendo 
suggestion. But it grew 
and became bolder ; 
its pleading gathered 
strength and volume, mounted up note by note, 
chord upon chord, until this longing for greater 
vocal and instrumental harmony burst forth 

(5) 



like a fanfare of trumpets in a " grand crescendo" 
demand. 

The time had come. It stood tip-toe on the 
threshold. The voice of a choir, the skillful 
blending of the tenor, the bass, the alto and the 
soprano, must sing responsive to our yearnings. 
Longer delay would leave us stranded and for- 
saken upon a neglected shore with only the sing- 
ing-sands to guide and to accompany, and as some 
of these sands were out of tune and past repair, 
there was sufficient cause for an uprising. 

No longer could we sit by the way trying to 
bring our discordant harps into harmony, and 
look with equal minds upon the old and the 
young, who by tens and by twenties were passing 
on their way to more inviting fields where was 
"concord of sweet sounds," without bestowing 
upon us so much as a nod of recognition, and 

(6) 



apparently unmindful of our existence, or did 
they know, painful thought, that our pipes were 
cracked and wheezy, that our cymbals had 
yielded up to time's wrack, and that our strings 
and bows had lost their cunning. 

Even some of our own members, the young 
and sprightly, were often afar — not in their 
accustomed places. Where were they? Was it 
not possible that "smart choirs " elsewhere were 
attractive, and was there not a suspicion that 
our humdrum-drooning in congregational-singing 
was repellant ? Other churches were adding 
power to strength, and reaching out and laying 
hands upon the people, while ours was where it 
had been since its time was— stock still, and, 
also, apparently, withdrawing into itself and 
closing the door behind it. 

The young and up-members were few in num- 

(7) 



ber, aye, and grew less, and the few was a 
harrassed-few, for they were tongue-lashed, 
and held up in scorn for running to other 
churches, seeking after false gods, and frivolities 
in general; and these young folks, bold beyond 
belief, had the audacity to reply : " Why, we want 
something new, something interesting, something 
lively." 

Had it come to this ? Our members in good 
and regular standing confessing to a debasing 
longing for novelties, and, worse than all, for 
something " lively." With reason might we de- 
spair of ever reaching Pisgah's heights when the 
flower of the flock went a-gadding. Our pillar- 
members were hewn out of Pilgrim stock, sev- 
eral generations removed. They were " set in 
their way," and, indeed, sat in the way as if held 
down by bolts and rivets. 

(S) 



Good Deacon Grampus was the chief pillar, 
aye, and sleeper, the chorister, and the chief sing- 
er ; and also, the chief block that stopped progress 
in the musical way. He declared, often with 
vehemence and gestures, that he hoped to be 
done with the cares of this life "before a choir 
riz up ter sing in that gal'ry " Indeed, he was 
the " chiefest " singer, and often a solo singer. 
When he faced the audience, pulled the stops of 
all his pipes, and his voice fell upon the innocent 
melody, then was there something to hear. 

In his early singing-school days, Deacon 
Grampus had courted the intimate acquaintance 
of the " good old tunes," — Old Hundred, Boyls- 
ton, Dedham, Silver Street, Windham, Hamburg, 
Duke Street, and many more. He announced 
often — it was unnecessary — as if it were some- 
thing in his favor, something remarkable, since he 

(9) 



sang so well, that he did not know one note from 
another. " But," said the deacon, " when I 
tackle one o' the good old tunes, I kin make it 
go." He could, and if he had kept on unob- 
structed in his musical, or vocal way, he would 
have made every member of the congregation 
go — go on the run with a finger in each ear as 
trespassers in the land of Og fled from the roar 
of the leader of the Bashan herd. 

His voice had no soft, lullaby notes in it; 
'twas'nt pitched that way ; it was a wind instru- 
ment, cracked, hoarse, and powerful, like a fog- 
horn with a rusty throat. In the social meetings, 
Deacon Grampus "started all the tunes." What- 
ever the hymn might be, it was adapted to one 
of the old melodies. It has been whispered 
around that some frivolous and w r orldly persons 
attended the meetings merely to hear Deacon 

(IO) 



Grampus sing, and to see how neatly he could 
adapt a hymn in one metre to a tune intended 
for a hymn in another metre. Somewhere near 
the end of the line the voice, apparently sur- 
prised at the surplus of words or notes, that they 
did not fit, turned a somersault, made a hop, skip 
and a jump, and came out evenly and staccato on 
the last note and syllable. 



(n) 



II. 



MflJOR(ITY) RED iHINOR(ITY) HIRS. 



HE call to arms had been 
sounded. It was it and 
nothing else, — the call to 
meeting to consider the 
question of maintaining 
a choir, and, according to 
the determined purpose 
of some members, a mi- 
nority with few members, 
but many words, to give it 
Sister Sr\Ug, such repulse — defeat, de- 

cisive and destructive, that it would never rise 
again to menace the peace, and to endanger the 
church. 

(12) 




" We'll show them," said an intellectual and 
obstructive member, with an impressive wave 
of his forefinger, — " we'll show the advocates of 
the sinful pleasures of the world, that they can- 
not set up their idols in this church." 

But progress has a bold front, is up and doing 
when aroused, and is cunning and practical. 
While the no-choir party hung weights on argu- 
ments, or soared on " elocution's wings," the 
choir party went a-hunting for votes, bagged 
them, and at the proper time the result of ballot 
coursing would appear. 

The choir party caught the majority before the 
meeting " to sit and to sift " was called, for, if the 
vote led by the pillars were against the project, 
then there would be no reconsideration for a 
year. Deacon Grampus would say, " What's 
did's did, an' can't be undid." 

(13) 



Therefore, the time had come to act — to act 
quickly. Not another year could the church re- 
main on this sliding scale — sliding back — back 
into inactivity and the gloom of obscurity. 

The meeting was interesting especially to the 
choir-party, with its bag of votes, and its majority 
tugging at the leash, when the long and " clinch- 
ing arguments" against the choir were piled up 
in voluminous extravagance. 

" I tell ye," said the deacon as he opened the 
meeting, " I'm agin any an' all choirs. I've ben 
here nigh onter fifty year, an' we've managed ter 
get erlong 'thout a choir. Ef we've got ter 
look ter a. choir fer ter build up Zion, we're in a 
dreffle bad w r ay — past savin', an' not wuth savin'. 
"We don't want no choir, an' we ain't ergoin' 
ter hev no choir, nuther." 

The deacon was right although he did not 

(h) 



mean wliat he said. The majority was deter? 
mined not to have no choir. 

Sister Pettigrew, president of the Dorcas, said, 
" I said Pd never enter this church again if I'd 
got to sit all through the service looking at them 
disbelieving sinners, excuse me, I mean singers, 
for singers are not always professors, and I be- 
lieve that only professors can sing in a worship- 
ful spirit. I don't want anybody, professors or 
not, to sing for me. I don't believe in worship- 
ing by proxy. I can't think it's right, and I say 
again, I'll never, never enter this church if a 
choir comes to disturb the service. As Brother 
Grampus says, we don't want a choir, and we are 
not going to have one." 

" I believe," said Brother Turner, " that singers 
are just as good as other folks. Sister Petti- 
grew is not obliged to look at the choir all the 

(15) 



time. We have good singers in the congregation 
who are not professors, who sing, I'm sure, in a 
worshipful spirit. Good music is as essential in 
a church as good preaching, and I know that 
music has often done more good than a barrel of 
sermons. 

" The soul may respond to a plaintive chord 
when it would be untouched by the eloquence of 
the most noted preacher ; and it is the music, the 
melody that touches, and not the person or per- 
sons who sing. We must have good music, and 
if we cannot make it ourselves, we must employ 
those who can. Every soul hungers for music> 
and this hunger, or the satisfying of it, begets 
more than we know or think of. A choir is what 
we want, and I believe we shall have one." 

" I've no doubt," exclaimed Sister Snug," thet 
ther'll be whisperin's an' gigling's, an' onseemly 

(16) 



carryin's on in ther choir, right ah hid ther pars- 
tor's back, an' afore us all, though they mought 
try ter hide an' snicker ahind ther gal'ry curtin. 
As Deacon Grampus do very properly say, we're 
a-gittin in a despert way ef we're ter look ter sich 
pussons fer ter raise up Zion. I've heern tell 
o' most scandalyous agoin's on in choirs, an' I 
did and do hope I shall never see ther day when 
a choir begins its tootin' in our gal'ry. Why, 

jest think o' ther quarr'l up ter ther church, 

all ther choir's doin's." 

" I rise to a point of order," shouted Brother 
Tubbs, who had only a far-away love for Sister 
Snug. " We did not come here to consider the 
short comings or goings on of the choir of the 
church. Those things don't concern us. 



Does Sister Pettigrew and Sister Snug suppose 
that we shall scour the earth to find some dis- 

(17) 



reputable people to sing for us. How do they 
know that our singers, if we have any, will not be 
professors ? There are professors who are sing- 
ers — there are as many good persons among 
singers as among other classes cf people. 

"As to choirs in general, they behave as well 
as congregations. Members of choirs do not 
whisper or giggle any more thafn members of the 
congregation ; they do not go to sleep and snore 
(he looked hard at Deacon Grampus), and they 
do not come in late and disturb the service as 
some members of this congregation do (he looked 
toward Sister Snug). We intend to secure a 
choir of ladies and gentlemen, not a minstrel 
troop, not a Punch and Judy show. The sooner 
we have a choir, the sooner will w r e be a live 
church among live churches." 

11 1 think," said Brother Boom, who was always 

(iS) 



exactly balanced between the yea and the nay 
of any question, and never dared to put down 
for good his vote or his influence till he knew 
where the majority was, " I think that the ques- 
tion is whether a choir will help the church or 
hinder it in its work. If it will aid, let's have 
the choir; if not, let's not have it." 

Both parties applauded this comprehensive 
speech. Not every man can win the plaudits of 
opposing factions, and only neutrals (nowheres 
and nobodies) attempt it. 

The next speaker was the sexton. Sextons, 
generally, if their own emphatic declarations may 
be accepted, are burdened with many cares and 
led into early decrepitude in consequence. Of 
course our sexton was opposed to any addition to 
his many duties and occupations, and, believing 

(19) 




TRe §ext°rx Spe^Ky 



that the no-choir party would prove to be the 
stronger, hastened to make record. 

11 1 can't think o' enything so onnecessary as er 
choir. Our ansisters didn't hev no choir, an' 
didn't they do their duty, an' ain't we proud 
of 'em ? An' who's er goin' ter wait on this 
choir if we're onlucky 'nough ter git one? 
Won't they want er warmin' o' ther church ev'ry 
Sat'dy evening fer no choir I ever heard of can 
sing 'less they learn it jest before han', an' they'll 
hev ter come an' tune — an' tune. 

" See ther expense ! We can't efford it, an' 
ther wood-pile an' ther coal-bin er gittin' lower an' 
lower. Fires er roarin' all day Sunday, agiiv- 
ev'ry Wednesday, sometimes of a Friday, an' 
then ev'ry Sat'dy fer a choir ter ketch ther tune. 
I tell ye, it's too much, altogether too much. 

"An' who'll keep an eye ter ther orgin blower, 

(21) 



the which falls 'sleep reg'ler? As we air now it 
don't signify whuther er no ther orgin's er goin* 
er not, 'cause Deacon Grampus' er better leader'n 
eny orgin, but er choir can't sing 'thout they're 
helped, an' hev a powerful sight o' waitin' on, an' 
somebody '11 hev ter 'tend ter ther blower — ter 
begin shakin' him erbout a half er hour afore 
ther close of ther service ter git him 'roused in 
time fer ther last tune. 

" What with er tendin' fires, an' er fillin' an' er 
trimmin' lamps, with sweepin's, an' siftin's, an' 
dustin's, an' er seatin' of ther people, an' er git- 
tin' water fer them thet's alius dry ther busiest 
time — when ther service is erbout ter begin — an' 
er passin' ther contribution box, an' er raisin' an* 
er lowerin' ther winders ter please 'em all, an' er 
ringin' ther bell, an' er shovellin' paths in ther 
winter, an' er sprinklin' ashes ter keep ther Slip- 
py 



p'ry from fallin', an er preparin' ther church fer 
weddings an' funerals, an' er carryin' messages, 
an' er huntin' up lost hymn books, umbrills, .para- 
sols, rubbers, gloves, an' other wearin' apparel 
an' er blowin' ther orgin when the blower can't 
be woke up, an' er doin arran's too numerous ter 
mention, an' er bein' in er dozen places ter onct, 
an' er bein ter blame fer everything except the 
weather an' er poor sermon, an' per'aps fer thet if 
the church is too warm or too cold — with all thet 
ter do — thet's only a fraction of ther whole — the 
sexton don't hev eny fime ter wrastle with the 
blower, or ter wait on eny choir. Thar's many 
things we want 'nough sight mor'n a choir, an' 
one of 'em is an ersistant sexton." 

Deacon Gripp, who had had a controversy with 
the sexton in regard to a north-window, said 
in substance that sextons were a drug in the 

(23) 



market, and that anybody in search of one could 
take his choice of a dozen any day, and that if 
the present incumbent — But he was called 
to order, and took his seat reluctantly. 

The discussion went on till all had sung their 
lay in the major or minor key, and the vote came 
in favor of the choir, to the surprise, if not the 
wrath of the no-choir party. A committee of 
eleven, Deacon Grampus, chairman, was ap- 
pointed to dictate and to rule in all matters 
musical. 

The sexton was surprised. If he had looked 
before he leaped, like Brother Boom, he would 
not be in his present predicament. He changed 
his mind quickly, however, on receipt of infor- 
mation more favorable to choirs in general, and 
to make amends wrote a book, " the which this 
is " in favor of Our Choir. Owing to the fore- 

(*4) 



thought and politeness of Deacon Gripp, who 
took notes at the time, the sexton's assistant is 
enabled to insert his (the sexton's) speech, and 
thus make complete the record of the meeting. 



(25) 



III. 

THE PITCH. 




HEN the sinsrers in 
town heard of the 
committee of eleven, 
they laughed deris- 
ively and said every 
one : " They need'nt 
ask me to sing in 
that choir — to be at 
the mercy of that 
committee — a committee of eleven. Oh! O-h ! '• 
But they were in error. A committee of 
eleven would exist only in name. The official 
committee would consist of one member, Dea- 

(26) 



con Grampus. It is true the others, even the 
whole congregation, might make remarks, and 
put their fingers in the pie, not to point out the 
plums, but to show where plums ought to be. 

It was a wild desire of Deacon Grampus that 
singers be invited to meet the committee in the 
vestry, congregation admitted if desired, and it 
would certainly desire it, to try their voices and 
allow the committee to select. But this was 
curbed, for no self-respecting singer would be a 
party to such an exhibition. A quartette choir, 
on its general and floating reputation, was select- 
ed, willing to serve for a modest consideration, 
and came together for rehearsal. 

Deacon Grampus was present and spoke from 
7.30 to 9.40 by the clock. He was shocked and 
prostrated by the unexpected result of the meet- 
ly) 



ing, but he was politic enough to take a calm, 
hopeful, and official view of the situation : 

" Ladies an' gentlemen of ther choir: It gives 
me gret pleasure ter meet ye on this mem'ble 
'casion. Ye're ther fust choir we've hed, an' its 
jest possible ye may be ther last, fer ye're not 
exactly welcome ter ther hull church, some o' our 
people's so sot agin a choir. But it'll depend on 
how ye sing, an' I must tell ye, we're a-lookin' fer 
something a leetle better'n common. Ye must 
remember thet a good many good singers '11 be a 
listenin' ter ye. Thets why we put off hevin' a 
choir so long, but ye see, some o' ther congrega- 
tion kinder thought we orter hev a leetle new 
timber (Timbre?) Per'aps it's a good idee, time 
'11 tell. 

"Now, I'll tell ye what we want. We want 
straight-forred music, an' no quaverin's, no holer- 

(28) 




Now, I'll tell ye MjY\at we want. 



in's or screamin's — only straight-forred music. 
We want ther ol' stannards an' plenty ov 'em. 
Yell be watched purty clus. Thar's Brother 
Biggie. He's a fine bayso-profound, an' wants 
strong, low pitched notes. An' thar's Sister 
Sampson with a wonderful nice ear. I don't 
suppose ye kin git a hair's wedth outer ther way 
'thout her knowiiV of it. She sets purty well 
back, an' if ye see her lookin' at ye sharp like, 
ye may know somethin's wrong. She's a power- 
ful supranny singer, an '11 help ye erlong on ther 
high notes. 

"An' thar's Sister Huxley, a superfine second- 
singer, an' most pertc'lar on time an' giner'l ex- 
pression. I suppose she can't be beat — ben a 
teacher. She sets in a wing pew, an '11 lift power- 
ful when her pipes are clear an' she knows the 
tune." 

(30) 



And thus he roamed anions the congregation 
of singers and mentioned nearly every one. 
Strange that a congregation so endowed with 
musical ears and voices should yield to foreign 
talent — that a quartette choir could not be made 
up among them, but knowing what Deacon 
Grampus's standard was, the absence of singers 
may be accounted for. 

The deacon's lay had so many lines, and so 
many da capo places in it, that no time remained 
for rehearsal, and the tenor, the director, said 
that as only straight-forward music was wanted, 
they could sing that without rehearsal. " But," 
he added, " see if they are not dissatisfied." 



(30 



IV. 

THE CHOIR, 




N Sunday the choir was in its 
place. Just before the ser- 
vice began, Deacon Gram- 
pus walked into the choir 
gallery. " I thought," he 
said graciously, " I'd come 
up an' give ye a lift in this 
fust service — jest ter help ye erlong." 

Every member of the choir knew the deacon's 
voice, and his power to exercise it, and his an- 
nouncement filled them with dismay. The so- 
prano and the alto sank down in the choir-chairs 

(3*) 



Str&i^M. -KVw&rtl muin" 



as if overcome with sudden faintness, the bass 
looked, well he looked for his coat and hat, and 
the tenor gasped and stared. While this dumb 
play was enacted. Mrs. Grampus, who was, as her 
husband said, "a very clever woman," saw and 
understood. She hurried into the gallery : 

" Why, John, you are not going to sing, are 
you ? Everybody knows you can sing, and of 
course the choir can sing if you help them. But 
what we want to know is if the choir can sing 
all 'lone, without anybody to help them. Come 
down. You are not the choir. We don't want 
to hear you sing to-day." 

" Wal, wal, Mirandy, mebby ye're right, but," 
he continued, turning to the choir, " ef I see ye 
a-waverin', I shell jine in powerful." 

Of course, all were expected to join in, but 
the choir thought that Deacon Grampus would 

(34) 



be near enough where he was, as he sat in a 
front pew. The service of song was carried out 
smoothly, but it was evident that the congrega- 
tion was disappointed. The church was crowded. 
The town knew all the circumstances preceding 
and attending the choice of a choir, and as the 
singers, except the tenor, were well known and 
recognized as good as any in the place, many 
came to hear, expecting on this first Sunday 
something unusual, perhaps something " lively." 
But when the choir sang only the old penny- 
royal tunes, given out by the pastor, suggested 
by Deacon Grampus, one of which was " Wind- 
ham," good old " Windham " in the minor and fun- 
ereal key, astonishment found expression in words 
emphatic, and not altogether complimentary to 
the singers. The people freed their minds as 
they passed out at the conclusion of the service. 

(35) 



"What a choir!" exclaimed a visitor. "I 
heard that they were wonderful singers — been 
-practising from the cradle — and that's the best 
they can do, the first Sunday ! The idea of hir- 
ing a choir to sing those old grinders ! " 

" It's almost insulting," said a member of the 
congregation who wanted something lively, " to 
give us such hum-drum as that, first time, too, 
when we expected something new." 

" Perhaps they think," growled young Mr. Blis- 
ter, who was accepted as authority on all kinds of 
music except his own singing, " that we can 
appreciate nothing better than 'Windham.' But 
the organist — he's got some snap." 

" If I was the committee," said another lively 
member, " I'd give that choir to understand 
quick, or no pay, that we did not hire it — yes, it 
— it's a good name for it— to sing what we can 

(36) 



sing ourselves. But, perhaps Deacon Grampus 
has been giving them orders. The organist ! — 
wasn't his playing grand ! Did you notice the 
soprano's bonnet ? " 

" I'm happily disappointed," said a member of 
the no-choir party. " I was afraid we'd have a 
concert with jigs and trills, but nothing of the 
kind. And they sing finely and apparently sin- 
cerely. A choir is not so bad after all ! I guess 
we can abide 'em." 

But the greater part of the congregation, even 
the most ardent supporter of the choir, was 
disappointed. Of course. 

As the singers came out of the gallery, Dea- 
con Grampus addressed them : 

" Ye did fine, an' no mistake. I ain't heered 
old ' Windham' so well sung for ten year, but I 
think, Mr. Bayso-Profound, ye didn't let out quite 

(37) 



'nough on them low notes, so I jined in powerful 
(the choir knew it and held its breath for a 
moment). Ye Ve started out right. Thet's jest 
what we want ev'ry Sunday — jest straight-forred 
music. 'S long's ye give us thet, we're with 
ye, heart, soul an' voices." 

" Old Windham ! " ejaculated Mr. Wilkins, the 
tenor and director, to himself, as he left the 
church, " if we don't give them something be- 
sides * Windham,' something besides straight- 
forward music of the Grampus-kind, then there's 
no life in the choir." 



(38) 



V. 

HF INTERLUDE. 




tf e d^rxc^J tk*rr\ °ut~. 



the organ playing had 
been indifferent and no- 
where in particular for a 
long time — in charge of 
a teacher who exercised 
his pupils, and, incident- 
ally the mind of the con- 
gregation, a new organist 
was on duty, and played 
for the new choir. 



He had been given no instructions in regard 
to straight-forward music. At the close cf the 



(39) 



service he " danced the congregation out " to the 
tune of a medley in which there was a strain 
from " Pinafore," a phrase from the " Beggar's 
Opera," a group of chords from " Tripping 
Through the Meadow," a brace from " Rory 
O'More," and a few bars from " Within a Mile of 
Edinboro' Town," and major and minor distrac- 
tions in profusion. 

" I'll let 'em know," muttered the organist, as 
he put on more steam and awoke the great organ 
as it had not been since it went on duty, " Til let 
'em know that we are here for business." 

Only a few members threw notes of protest at 
the organist, and they changed the key when 
they found the majority against them. The 
general verdict on the organ playing was that it 
was " grand." It was new — had some life in it 
— something that made the blood run quicker. 

(40) 



The organ had not been aroused before for years, 
and had been apparently too feeble to clear its 
throat, but now it was up and doing with a roar. 

Already the congregation was dissatisfied with 
the choir because it had not done what it had 
been forbidden to do — because it had indulged in 
no " quaverings," and no " hollerings," and be- 
cause it had sung straight-forward music, while 
it praised the organist, and said he was " great," 
and he was doing exactly what the choir had been 
ordered not to do. 

Now, it is a well-known and admitted fact that 
no self-respecting choir in this broad land, no 
choir of ambition and spirit will confine itself to 
straight-forward music as defined by Deacon 
Grampus. All honor to them. What are sing- 
ers-choirs for ? To play with a few old tunes, 
good as they may be, because a fraction of the 

(40 



people have discovered nothing different ? Do 
people dine on mince-pie three times a day be- 
cause it is good ? Is not a change of musical 
diet as necessary as any ? 

And there is not a progressive, independent 
choir to be found that will not attempt to sing, 
aye, and sing, too, the most difficult composition, 
the world has seen. Again, is the choir, any- 
where, crowned with honor. That is the object 
of " ye trained men and women singers " — to tip 
to the public in general what it knows not of 
except by ear, or word of mouth. While only 
few, comparatively, unlimber tongue in song, yet 
all, with no exceptions worth mentioning, turn 
attentive, delighted ear to the melodious phras- 
ing of " music's golden tongue." 

And of choirs, it must be said as of folks, that 
they have their peculiarities. The psychological 

(42) 



outline of an average mortal is that of the aver- 
age choir-subject to varying moods and tenses, 
and living like the rest of mankind upon a slid- 
ing scale, with many accidentals in it of word 
and temper, relapses into the natural key, not 
unlike the plank with nails in it used by the Sons 

of as a coasting-place for candidates. 

Solos are sweetmeats and solace in the strug- 
gle for renown in music — to the singers — not all 
the hearers heard from. In a well ordered choir 
the solo-plums must be evenly divided, else the 
soprano with one looks askance at the alto with 
two, and with surprise at the director of the 
choir, who evidently cannot count, or who has 
a strange, perverted taste ; and the bass with 
one to the tenor's two tells the organ-blower in 
confidence that deep feeling and a genuine soul- 
stir are produced solely by low tones. Ah ! 

(43) 



there is great fame in solos, and the members of 
a choir, presumably all on stilts of the same 
height, should have equal shares. 



(44) 



VI. 

SOLOS. 



S Mr. Wilkins walked 
homeward, he busied his 
mind with a solo-pro- 
gramme, and soliloquized 
thus : — 

"Now, let me see. 
Next Sunday the bass 
shall spring a solo on 
^At^rNOp §o,o. them. His notes are 

low, and he is'nt likely to do any high-galloping 
for he can't get up there. 'Twouldn't do, of 
course, to let the soprano sing the first solo, 

(45) 




although by courtesy the ladies should lead. 
No, the bass must begin, and break the ice, pre- 
pare the way for the soprano. 

" Then the soprano. Trouble will come, of 
course, and plenty of it, for if the soprano can't 
have a chance to take her highest note, and put 
in a warble on both sides of it, she won't put any 
heart into her singing. She's right! What's the 
use of high notes, anyway, if they are not to be 
tossed out ? They shall not be smothered, if I've 
anything to say about it. 

"Well, then comes the alto leading in song. 
Her low notes will be like oil on the troubled 
waters, and will repair the damage done to the 
peace of mind of the congregation, and the repu- 
tation of the choir by the soprano. And — and 
then look out, for the tenor will sing, and if I 
don't hang a few notes on the topmost pinnacle 

(46) 



of the church-spire, I'm no singer, no tenor 
worthy the name." 

The next Sunday, the service opened with a 
four-part song, with a few bars of solo-work for 
each singer. Then the bass came to the front 
with his solo. It was a surprise, but after Mr. 
Wilkins had counted up the wry faces — faces 
•distorted by inward anguish — he believed that 
the majority of the members of the congregation 
were in sympathy with the choir. At the close 
of the service, Deacon Grampus exclaimed : 

" Wal, ye did purty well on thet fust tune when 
ye was all a-singin', but why did'nt ye all sing all 
ther time? Thet's what ye're hired fer. But 
thet bayso-profound — I dunno — I dunno 'bout 
him." 

The programme arranged by Mr. Wilkins was 
carried out in every detail. When the soprano 

(47) 



toyed with her high note — her vocal pet — and 
tossed it back and forth like a shuttle-cock, 
reluctant to let it go, there was here and there in 
the congregation quiet lamentation, apparently, 
and evidences of woe. Some were shocked, 
while others, the majority, exclaimed exultantly, 
" Well, now, we have a singer worth having ! The 
other choirs can't crow over us now ! Our choir's 
good's the best ! " 

When the alto's soft tones beat upon those 
critical tympanums, there was nothing to criticise 
or censure except the fact that it was a solo. As 
expected, it healed, in a degree, the wounds in- 
flicted by the soprano, smoothed out some can- 
tankerous wrinkles in mind and forehead, but my 
pen falters and shakes to record what followed. 

When the tenor sent his voice up to the spire's 
weather-vane, where it perched a moment to rest, 

(48) 




Xjje c t °| T c ^°r\ Tir$ S° 



and then soared up into the clouds, then had the 
climax come. What ! Had our church become 
an opera house — a place of exercise — a gymna- 
sium for screeching mortals and offensive shout- 
ers — for so-called singers who disported on any 
stage like the man in the not-to-be-mentioned 
play, who sang : 

" O, I'm er ten-or hi-e-i-high ; 
I sing ev'rv quaver-qua-hay-ver — 
To-er s'prano's aid I fly-yi-yi, 
If she, as oft, doth wa-hay-ver; 
On me-e-le-e-eens ther al-to, 
Bu-ut nev-er, NEVER tha-hanks me; 
Also, ther (bah !) ha-scratch-y-bas-so — 
A wob-bler-er on high-yi-C-e." 

But the choir party clapped its hands in silent 
glee. The tenor had no fame in the place, being 
unknown, but fame was laid at his feet now, and 
many laurels crowned his brow. The town was 

(50) 



present, and admitted that no tenor in the neigh- 
borhood was his peer. 

After the first round of solos had its run, 
others followed. Mr. Wilkins consulted not the 
committee of eleven, not because he was guided 
by a lofty spirit of independence, but because 
consultation resulted in no solution of the prob- 
lem. Deacon Grampus was deep in the dumps, 
and often gave rein to violent tongue when the 
choir was mentioned. No more did he "join in 
powerful," but, in evident distress of mind, en- 
dured in silence. Sisters Pettigrew and Snug, on 
the undoubted authority of an observant rear- 
sitter, and peeker, put cotton in their ears, and 
leaned their heads, like martyrs on the block, 
upon the rail of the pew in front that they might 
not see or hear, and take no part in the " fright- 
ful performance." 

(50 



The wife of a visiting pastor added her fagot 
to the flame of criticism and revolt by saying, 
" What a slipshod singer she is ! She sang 
that hymn a half a tone too low all through." 
What wonderful musical knowledge and sense 
was here shadowed forth ! What a masterly 
musical performance to sing with the organ, and 
at the same time to sine a half tone lower than 



£> 



the organ ! And if she had sung without accom- 
paniment, and sang a half, or a whole tone too 
low, how did it mar the melody? A member of 
the choir party remarked, " We asked the hus- 
band to preach, not the wife to meddle with the 
choir." 

But the church grew, and mounted up in 
popular esteem, and in good works. Vigor and 
enthusiasm were helpmeets. The congregation 
in less than a year had nearly doubled, and the 

(52) 



Sunday-school had more than doubled. The 
no-choir party merely remarked, " Of course, the 
church was like a man sick with the fever — very 
low, but there was a turning-point in favor. It 
came naturally." But they repulsed the idea 
that medicine had helped the sick man, or that 
the choir had quickened the pulse of the church. 
The choir, however, went its musical way, and 
it was musical, to the increasing admiration of 
the choir party, and of the town, and, of course, 
to the accumulating indignation and scorn of 
the no-choir party. The year was near its end, 
and it- was evident that a storm was brewing — 
a no-choir party storm- — which would, doubtless, 
break forth like a hurricane at the annual meet- 
ing not far away. 



(53) 



VII. 

SOLO FUGUCS, 




N the meantime, however, the choir 
was not in harmony — not on 
speaking terms with itself. The 
cause of this discord is not at hand, but it is 

(54) 



supposed to have sprung from attempts to solve 
the soio-problem to the satisfaction of all con- 
cerned. 

The bass declared, in strict confidence to all his 
friends, that he had heard sopranos and sopranos, 
and tenors and tenors, but — Zounds! in all his 
travels he had not met a soprano or a tenor 
quite as poor as ours — with so many ragged- 
ed^ed tones, and no style at all. As for the alto, 
she could never be much of a singer, anyway. 
And they were all so disagreeable, too ! But, 
thank heaven, the end was near, and he would 
soon escape from the din! 

And the alto said that all the singers, except 
the bass, the tenor, and the soprano, were as good 
as they need be, but that the remainder couldn't 
do much in such discord and confusion. And 
the tenor, especially, was so important and over- 

(55) 



bearing, paying attention to the soprano, too — 
that she'd never, never sing with him or any of 
them again. Just never! 

The soprano was indignant. " To think," she 
exclaimed, sub rosa, to all her friends, " that after 
all my study and practice, I've come to this — 
singing with such a tenor — such an alto! And 
the bass ! What a voice! Just drives me wild to 
hear it! And what do you think," she continued 
in a whisper, " he, the bass, has had the effront- 
ery to — to — attempt to — to pay some attention 
to me! The idea! Was there ever anything 
so insolently audacious ? H'm! What a relief 
to be free from them! Not another hour would 
I sing with them." 

But the tenor felt the worst. " Here I've been 
practising in Italian atmosphere, imported for 
the purpose, getting my voice down to liquid 



flow and smoothness, and up, too, as high as any 
of 'em, and now it's dulled and nicked by com- 
ing in contact with such husky-wusky, untrained 
voices that sing hit or miss all over the page — 
anywhere except where they ought to. Humph ! 
I can't be a whole choir, and do all the singing. 

" The bass ! Who flattered him into the belief 
that he can sing ? And the soprano ! No won- 
der the congregation puts cotton in its ears! 
But that alto — language fails. She had the 
audacity to suggest how I should make the solo- 
appointments. A very disagreeable and presum- 
ing woman ! If I ever sing within a mile of that 
alto again, with that bass, or that soprano — with 
such a jarring, discordant company, it will be for 
the same reason that men go to jail — for pun- 
ishment." 

But the tenor, the soprano, the alto, and the 

(57) 



bass agreed on one point. While it was possi- 
ble — barely possible — that the organist might 
teach beginners the rudiments (more likely snarl 
up their fingering) on a seraphine, and be useful 
and ornamental in various occupations, yet there 
was one thing he could not in reason expect to 
do, and that was, to play a church organ. 

" Why," exclaimed the director of the choir, 
" when we want to show the richness and 
smoothness of our voices — the purity of tone — 
he'll draw the stops to all the noisy pipes, 
and stamp out a jig on the pedals — just smother 
us in a blast of trumpets ; and when we want 
help — want a sympathetic chord to lift us over 
a high or ragged place, he plays low — limps along 
pianissimo a good half behind. He appears to 
be afraid of the organ till the congregation is 
dismissed, and then — and then he throws himself 

(58) 



at it, wrestles with it to a painf ul-to-see degree, 
till it's a wonder there's any organ left. Why, 
that organ won't last a year if he continues to 
play, and the choir — well, the choir's worn out 
now." 

And the organist said: "If I play another 
year, I hope they'll get some singers — somebody 
that can keep within a rod of the key. Why, 
I've had to open all the stops, couple on the 
big organ, and nearly blow the whole fabric to 
pieces to bring them back on to the key ! What 
are such folks trying to sing for, anyway? 
Shades of Mozart ! What would they have done 
without me ! " 



(59) 



VIII. 

R MEDLEY. 




HE meeting in the interest 
% of harmony and music had 
its run, and its members al- 
V lowed their tongues to run 
beyond the limit of reason 
and politeness. A rumor ran, too, 
to the effect that the no-choir party 
had a majority, and would rule with 
a rod of iron — ruling out instanter 
the choir to a quick-step movement. 
The no-choir party took the floor immediately, 
and set at liberty to run rampant, broadside after 

(60) 



broadside of criticism into the camp of the 
enemy — the choir party. At last Mr. Wilkins 
could keep his seat no longer, and he sprang 
into the breach between talkers. He was a man 
of affairs as well as a good singer. He was wise 
and diplomatic. 

" Ladies and gentlemen : I have no right to 
speak here, but the accused should not be con- 
demned until heard. This meeting, or what has 
been said, is a great surprise to me. You cannot 
mean what you say — you, the good men and 
women of this church and town — you cannot, in 
your sober moments, think so ill of the choir. 

" There is a reporter present, and he will have 
all in the paper to-morrow in bold type, and will 
you, Deacon Grampus, pillar in the church and 
town, read with pleasure that you said at this 
meeting that the choir in your church is a ' set 

(61) 



of hollering nuisances ' ? You did not mean to 
say that respectable men and women, doing their 
duty as well as they know it, are nuisances. No, 
you did not intend to say anything so impolite. 
When we began, you wanted plain music. We 
gave you plain music, and you were dissatisfied. 
Of course. You hired us to do what other 
choirs do. And we have sung as others sing, 
exerting ourselves, and doing the utmost possi- 
ble to please you. 

" We could do no more if we were paid five 
thousand dollars a year each. We have ren- 
dered the best service we are capable of, and no 
man can do more, and our reward, even if some 
of you are not pleased, ought to be something- 
better than spiteful criticism and hard names. 
We do not deserve this treatment at your hands 

— it is unworthy of you. Now," continued Mr. 

(62) 



Wilkins, in the smoothest tenor voice, "if you 
consider it independent of any other question, 
if you look at it dispassionately, wasn't it pretty 
good singing after all ? " 

The tenor was known as a fiery man, all tenors 
are fiery, but this mild yet plain spoken address 
blunted the edge of criticism, really disarmed 
the opposition, and paved the way for what was 
to come. The silence that fell at the conclusion 
of Mr. Wilkins' remarks was painful and unbro- 
ken for a half a minute, except by Deacon Gram- 
pus, who tip-toed around to the reporter, prob- 
ably to keep an eye on him, and perhaps to 
collar him if he attempted to escape before his 
copy was properly expunged. 

At last Brother Splinter arose, and the audi- 
ence braced itself for the storm to come. Brother 
Splinter was a quiet man, chary of words except 

(63) 



in emergencies — and then he could supply a 
whole village. He would speak the truth and 
send it home, like a wad in a gun-barrel. He 
had influence, too, a big pile of it, in the bank, 
growing bigger every day. 

" Ladies and gentlemen : I attended a worldly 
meeting the other day, not so worldly as this, if 
I may judge by the temper and tenor (not Mr., 
Wilkins) of this, in which a man arose and crit- 
icised some statement of the speaker. The 
speaker replied : ' I wasn't addressing you in par- 
ticular, but the audience as a whole. If you 
don't like what I say, the proper course for you 
is to take your departure, — there's room enough 
out of doors, — or hold your peace. You have no 
right to disturb this meeting because you are not 
in sympathy with it.' 

" Now," continued Mr. Splinter, who had 

(64) 



worked his way from the rear of the vestry to 
the platform, "if this choir is so intolerable to 
some members of the congregation, how can they 
endure and remain. Is it not extraordinary that 
these members have endured this torture, have 
put themselves on the rack, and although suffer- 
ing terribly, got onto the rack as often as they 
could and stayed on as long as possible ? Why ! 
brothers and sisters, there are people not a mile 
away who are never happy till they are up to 
their ears in hot water, and when they are well 
in, they splash around, enjoy themselves, and try 
to scald others, instead of quietly slipping out 
and going their way, when the majority is against 
them — when facts, reason, sense stare them in 
the face in determined opposition. 

" Sometimes minorities are right, and then all 
honor to them for contending for the right, but 

(65) 



such is not the case here. What is the minority 
here? Its members, strictly speaking, may be 
counted twice on the fingers of both hands, and 
why are these members opposed to a choir? I'll 
tell you," said Mr. Splinter, raising his voice an 
octave at one jump, " they are opposed because 
they made up their minds in advance — long 
before the choir came — to oppose, to hinder, to 
belittle the choir in every way possible to the 
bitter end. 

" Some of the early objectors have been won 
over in spite of themselves, but the few, the pal- 
try half dozen, adhere like a porous plaster to the 
compact, they made with themselves, before they 
saw or heard the choir, never to yield, too proud 
to give in, but obstinate enough to hold out. 
And not one of this little minority has any defi- 
nite knowledge of music, and the opinions of 

(66) 



any one on music wouldn't be quoted at a her- 
ring's value in the market. (Mr. Splinter was a 
dealer in fish.) 

" And is not this wee bit of a minority just 
full and running over with selfishness ? They ask 
us — this church and congregation— to yield to 
them — to give up the pleasures of music — to go 
back to the humdrum doodle-doo to please them — 
to please them, fighting in spite for a whim and 
not for any principle, and not for the good of the 
church. We will not yield to them ! We ought 
to rise in christian wrath and indignation and 
stamp out this spirit of evil — it is nothing else— 
that has menaced our peace and made us a 
laughing-stock. 

"The affairs of churches, even, must, in a 
measure, be conducted on business principles. If 
there be elements of discord, we must proceed in 

(67) 



a business, as well as a christian way, to bring 
them into harmony or cast them out. If the 
minority can't abide us, let its members get their 
baggage ready and go by the next train, or for- 
ever hold their peace. Let us rise and say, and 
mean it, that we will not longer submit to the 
offensive domination of a flaw-picking minority. 

"This meeting, instead of being an indignation 
meeting to throw stones and harder words at the 
choir, ought to be a ratification-congratulatory 
meeting — a meeting to thank the choir for the 
good service rendered this church. It's a good 
choir, as good as any church in this town has or 
ever had — not only good as a choir, but also good 
as to the standing of its members in the com- 
munity. The fact that our choir is composed of 
ladies and gentlemen, in the full meaning of the 
terms, who have done their duty conscientiously, 

(68) 



ought to have saved them and the church this 
humiliation, even if their singing had been un- 
satisfactory to every one of us. 

" The congregation and Sunday-school have 
been largely increased during the year. Once 
more is there life in the old church we love so 
well. Did the choir have any part in this renewal 
of vigor? If not, who or what added new life? 
And what did this little minority do toward this 
good result ? Why, its members seemed to have 
no more important business during the year than 
to whisper in corners, and to point their fingers 
at the choir; and, shameful to relate, put cotton 
in their ears, and, worse yet, made a parade of 
the fact. 

"The choir deserves our gratitude, and any 
amends we can make for its unhandsome treat- 
ment at the hands of the minority, and, therefore, 
I move that this meeting do humbly apologize to 

(69) 



the choir — take back what has been said to-night, 
and give instead a vote of thanks — all in one 
motion I put it." 

This was carried with enthusiasm. The meet- 
ing, or some of its members, had been aroused to 
a normal sense in thought and action, and a solid 
yea vote was the result. 

"And now," said Brother Splinter, " there is 
another way to reward the choir. We are going 
to have a choir the next year, and we cannot get 
a better choir than the one we've had. There- 
fore, I move that the choir, if it will serve, and 
the organist, also, be engaged for another year, 
and, to save time, I embody in the same motion 
this, that the pastor, the superintendent of the 
Sunday-school, and the leader of the choir be the 
committee — the only committee — on music, sub- 
ject to no one, nothing, except the good taste 
and sense of its members." 

(70) 






A dozen voices seconded the motion, and it 
was carried without a dissenting vote, and it is 
believed that all voted. The choir was present, 
and sang, by request, " Should auld acquaintance 
be forgot," and sang it so softly, feelingly, that it 
was indeed a benediction, and many, including 
Deacon Grampus and Sister Snug, were notably 
" teary around the lashes." 

After the choir had entered upon the work of 
another year, Sister Pettigrew remarked : " Well, 
the choir 's improving. I begin to like the sing- 
ing," and Sister Snug said softly, apparently 
much subdued in spirit, " It don't sound so bad 
after one gits customed to 't," and Deacon Gram- 
pus admitted that " the church might go further 
an' fare wuss," and that " thar's no denyin' ther 
fac, they do give them ol' tunes a remark'ble fine 

settin'." 

(71) 



IX. 

EPITHHLHMIUiVL, 




NUPTIAL song should 
follow here to commem- 
orate the triple union — 
the choir with the 
church, and the mem- 



bers of the choir with each other. 

(73) 



True love never runs smoothly till the goal be 
reached, where and when the way widens, and 
delightful vistas " spring to view" on every hand. 

The members of the choir, determined on sep- 
aration with not less than a mile between them, 
consented to blend voices another year. When 
Winter was packing up and moving out, and 
Spring was laying carpets, beautifully shaded 
green, preparatory to moving in, the tenor and 
the alto were married (soprano and bass, best 
man and woman), and not long thereafter, when 
the new tenant, Spring, had hung her tasseled 
curtains up and placed flowers in the windows, 
the " bans " of the soprano and the bass were 
announced. 

And the organist, soliloquizing on these mat- 
rimonial complications, as he drew out all the 
couplers and stops and walked around on the 

(74) 



pedals, and threw a wholesale snatching of chords 
from " Mendelssohn's Wedding March," and a 
few connecting links from " The Spring Fairy " 
into an exit-quick-as-you-can postlude, muttered 
to himself, soft and low: "Just what I expected 
when they wouldn't speak to each other last 
year! Humph! An organist don't have time to 
do any courting; if he did, it's just possible that 
tenor wouldn't be wearing so many smiles these 
days." 

The only person not contented and satisfied 
with life and its surroundings at this good time 
was the organ-blower. He relieved his mind, 
crowded to bursting, with thoughts more or less 
dangerous to the welfare of the tenor and the 
bass. 

" I did hope," said the organ-blow r er savagely, 
"that the bass and the tenor would have to go. 

(75) 



There's a 'spiracy between 'em. I know it. I 
never fell 'sleep once — not once — but this 's a 
free country, and I guess I can close my eyes 
and nod my head if I want to, without asking 
leave of the tenor or the bass. 

" For some time, I felt pricks in my legs I 
couldn't account for — in the summer thought 
'twas skeeters — but at last I see the bass drawin' 
away the black-board pointer with a pin in the 
end of it, and again, I caught the tenor doin' the 
same thing. Now I know why I'm covered all 
over with jabs and scratches, and stuck full of 
pinholes. If I thought the organist was in the 
'spiracy (I see him laughin' behind a book) I'd 
stop his wind when he's tryin' to show off in 
perludin' or antiludin'. But that bass and 
that tenor — how 'm I goin' to get even with 
them ? " 

(76) 



But after the choir, came other improvements, 
and anions them a mechanical blower that re- 
quired no shaking or black-board pointer remind- 
ing- — a blower subject and immediately obedient 
to the organist. 

And the choir continues to sing, and to lead in 
song — to lead the congregation up to the highest 
appreciation and enjoyment of music — the old, 
the new, even the lively — aye, and up to the 
yielding to its " soft persuasive voice " that 
"sweetly soothes and never betrays." 

And the congregation — in harmony sings in 
harmony — sings as it never sang before, for — 

" The soul of music slumbers in the shell, 
Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ; 
And feeling hearts, touch them but lightly, pour 
A thousand melodies unheard before." 



(77) 



X. 

POSTLUDE. 



T has been noised abroad, 
probably through the 
agency of the spying or- 
gan-blower, who saw me 
taking notes behind a pil- 
lar (not Deacon Grampus), 
that I am writing a book 
about the choir. Deacon 
Gripp, who sits in the wall- 
aisle, next pew-door to the 
hottest furnace-pipe, and 
who imagines that he is in sole command (great 

mistake) of the north window, which abuts on 

(78) 




it\ e t^Kmg i\°t e c. 



his church property, and who opens this window 
every winter Sunday, to the great annoyance of 
adjacent pew-holders, especially a near sitter with 
a bald head (a good man), which window I closed 
last Sunday three times at the request of seven- 
teen, forty-two, and twenty-seven persons respect- 
ively — 

This man, Deacon Gripp, I say, announces 
that with the help of Sister Snug, who sits in a 
back pew near the big door, and who wants to 
know, every cold Sunday, when the big door is 
open to admit the congregation, why there's no 
fire in the church (w r hen it's sizzling hot at the 
other end), and if it is not about time to look for 
a "saxton" who can attend to his duties, and 
give some attention to the comfort of the peo- 
ple — announces, I say, that with the help of Sis- 
ter Snug and Brother Quick, who wants to be 

(79) 



sexton himself, "just long enough to show the 
people what a sexton ought to do " — 

Deacon Gripp announces, I say again, that 
with the help of these worthies he is compiling 
a work (calls it a work) entitled " Our Sexton," 
which he says, pompously, will be given to the 
press immediately. 

I improve this opportunity to show forth that 
I know just how all their slings and arrows are 
pointed — dull as crow-bars — Gripp's, Snug's, 
Quick's, and that I deny their gross exaggera- 
tions and allegations, one and all, tee-total, and 
that I shall not resign so long as strength re- 
mains to keep an eye, and to clap a hand, to that 
north-window as often, on a cold day, as Deacon 
Gripp, or any other man, durst open it. 

The Sexton. 



(So) 



XL 

HN ECHO. 



TER I had wrote 
this Storey, I gave 
it toe a noospaper 
man toe run his Ey 
threw it. My Gran- 
farthers grate Unkl was 
vary litrary and so was my 
Farther and I hav wrote 
Poartrey all threw my life, 
tho not for Publickton, and olltho I can mak a 
dubble rime in enny line (see, it kums nacherul) 
I'm not shure on fine pints of Sin Tacks, 

(Si) 




Gramur and Genral Logick. So I wanted ther 
noospaper man toe see if Ide made no mistak. 

When he brot back ther Storey he sed I orter 
get a Prynter and he volenterred toe tak it rite 
down toe him. As Ide hed sum talk with a 
Prynter bout it I told him toe go ahed. Toe my 
Sub Cequent Sorrew I did not look at ther 
Storey agen supposin it was as I had wrote it. 

I happnd intoe ther Prynters Offiss just as he 
was a bindin it up intoe a book. What was my 
Dismay toe see on ther furst page — Orthur Of 
and Cetterry. Nothink could be farther from 
my thots. But that was not er Sarcumstence 
toe what I discuvered as I turnd toe ther 
Storey. 

Not wain wurd of mine could I find frum 
Over — ther — ther — what's thet — -toe ther end 
not wun. Ther Prynter chuckeled, ther raskill, 

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and I beleev hees an Erkompliss of ther noos- 
paper man. If I could not put in this which I've 
hedded " Noat of Protess " the Publick Ey shuld 
nevar look up on it. 

Ther Sexton Orthur of Ouer Quire. 



THC ECHO'S ECHO, 

And the public eye did not look upon "this 
which hedded ' Noat of Protess/ " but owing to 
the "hurry " (the first and the last) of the printer, 
neither time nor opportunity remained "to run 
an eye threw " the " noat " itself. 



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